


The Eskimo Thing

by Molly



Category: due South
Genre: Crack Fic, Due South - Freeform, First Time, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-22
Updated: 2008-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-02 00:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molly/pseuds/Molly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I just want you to know, Benny, this is the last time I'm going on vacation with you."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eskimo Thing

"I just want you to know, Benny, this is the last time I'm going on vacation with you."

"I understand, Ray."

"It ain't enough I have to get shot at and blown up and plane-crashed. It ain't enough I get to haul your butt all around the Territories for a week while you go blind and paraplegic and _insane_. It ain't enough I have to preserve the dignity of the Mountie Brotherhood by getting your man, or bringing him back alive, or maintaining the right, or whatever it is that your motto actually is --"

"To be perfectly fair, Ray, we were lost for only two days, well south of the Territories, in one of the most temperate seasons of the year. And you didn't precisely bring him back _alive_, either. As I recall, parts of him were taken away from the scene in sandwich bags."

Ray's jaw dropped. "Do I sound like I'm interested in fair right now?"

"...not especially, no." Fraser sighed loudly, and twisted against the ropes. Like he thought they might have miraculously come untied all by themselves, all on account of some crazy Canadian mind trick. "Possibly if I dislocated my shoulder..."

"Is that your answer to everything? Dislocate your shoulder, we'll be suddenly free, the bad guys will be vanquished, the good guys will prevail, late night TV will be good again?"

Fraser let out an exasperated huff of breath. It raised Ray's spirits tremendously, as if some of the burden of hating life had been shifted onto broader, stronger shoulders.

"Perhaps if we didn't talk for a while, Ray, I could devise a way to work my hands free."

"Don't think I don't know that means 'shut the hell up' in Canadian," Ray said. He shut up, though -- not because he was out of complaints, but because any sign of flapping in his freakishly unflappable friend was to be encouraged and rewarded. And anyway, it wasn't like griping was going to get them any less naked and tied to a tree in a clearing in Fraser's woods, on Fraser's own _property_, captives of a tribe of previously undiscovered Eskimos.

How they managed to survive into the 20th century with no contact at all with other human beings was past Ray's understanding. Probably they lived underground somewhere. Really deep underground. So deep they didn't hear airplanes or people or extensive snowmobile chases and gun battles going on overhead, and missed hereditary log manors burning down and getting rebuilt right on top of them. For all Ray knew, they'd just landed here from Mars. Fraser was the one who spoke fifteen different kinds of Inuit, and so it was Fraser who'd translated their list of grievances and demands.

Ray twisted his hands against the ropes that bound him. He wasn't going to think about their demands.

  
   


* * *

  
   


Two hours later, the sun had sunk behind a distant ridge and twilight filled the clearing in which they were still tied -- Fraser now with a dislocated shoulder -- to a tree. It hadn't been what Ray would've called warm to start with, but now it was downright chilly. Diefenbaker had either gone for help (according to Fraser) or fled the scene (Ray) around noon, and since help had not been forthcoming, Ray was pretty sure he was the better judge of wolf character in this instance. The ropes were cutting into his ribs and his arms and his thighs, he was getting a headache from dehydration and annoyance, and the mosquitoes had found them -- big honking mosquitoes with a yen for Italian food, apparently. He wanted, probably more than he'd ever wanted anything in his entire sorry life, to go home.

He'd spent the past two hours explaining that, at some length, to Benny, who was now slumped against the ropes on the other side of the tree, pretending to be asleep. Like anybody could sleep with all the cricket-chirping and owl-hooting and wolf-howling that was going on all around them. It made Ray miss the ambulances always coming and going to the hospital down the street from his house. Ambulances made noise because they wanted to help you. Canada, Ray was absolutely convinced, made noise because it wanted to eat you.

"Benny?"

The soft sound of Fraser breathing got a notch louder, a notch closer to snoring. Ray wasn't buying it for a second.

  
   


* * *

  
   


"Yo, Benny!" Ray threw himself forward against the ropes, as much as he could given that they were cutting off circulation between very important sectors of his body, and was rewarded with a satisfyingly choked grunt from the other side of the tree.

"Ray...?"

Ray rolled his eyes. "You come up with anything to get us out of this while you were communing with the spirit of the forest?"

"Not so far, Ray."

"You know, this is really not a good time for you to lose your super powers. Why couldn't you show me your human side while you were chasing some five year old gumball thief or something?"

"It's actually very important that children be exposed to the proper rules of behavior when they're young and impressionable--"

"Yeah, I know, that's really important. I mean, you had all those great law-abiding examples, and look how you turned out."

"Why, thank you, Ray," Fraser said, warm surprise in his voice. Ray waited a few seconds, then heard a weary, long-suffering sigh. "Ah," Fraser said. "I see."

"Look, it's not that I don't see what you're getting at. It's that we're _tied naked to a tree_, Benny!"

Fraser shifted, over there on the other side of their tree, and the ropes around Ray's middle got tighter for a second. Then, incredibly, he felt rough, warm fingers slipping around his hand. Fraser squeezed. "If it's any consolation, I'm...rather upset, myself," he said.

Ray had to blink rapidly at that exact moment, because something had got into his eyes and they'd started to water amazingly. He didn't say anything, on account of he didn't want to open his mouth and get something in his throat that might maybe choke him or something. So instead, he just tightened his fingers a little bit around Fraser's, and cleared his throat, and kicked aimlessly at a tree root that wound up from the ground near his right foot.

Five minutes later, the light was gone and the Eskimos were back.

  
   


* * *

  
   


"Tell them if they let us go, we won't hurt them," Ray said. "Tell them we come in peace!"

"Well, we can't hurt them _now_, Ray. They have spears and crossbows, and we're unarmed."

"Yeah, and unclothed, and tied up, which is where your Mr. Nice Guy act got us. Come on, yell a little! Put some White-Man Mojo on 'em!"

Fraser cleared his throat delicately, in a way that was supposed to make Ray feel guilty. Well, he didn't feel guilty; he felt like if he ever got loose from this tree, he was gonna kill something with his teeth.

"I will attempt to reason with them," Fraser said finally, and launched into a complicated set of vowels broken up by k's and p's that went on for approximately three weeks. When he was done, the very round woman he'd been talking to said,

_"Naaga!"_

"She says no, Ray."

"Thanks, Fraser, I got that."

Fraser said some more things that Ray figured probably wouldn't make any more sense in English than they did in Eskimo, and the woman said some more things back, loud and angry, for about ten minutes.

"She says, seriously, no."

"She said it for a really long time that time."

"Most of it was a restatement of their demands. In, ah. Considerably more detail than the last time." Fraser's voice changed, and Ray could _see_ the blush in his mind's eye. "I'm afraid --"

"No."

"Ray, be reasonable --"

"No."

"But--"

"Absolutely not!"

Fraser sighed, and said something quick and sharp in Eskimo that Ray translated in his head as, "the incredibly smart and surprisingly virile Italian man says no."

"Thank you."

"That may be premature, as I believe they intend to kill us now."

The Eskimo woman had raised her crossbow.

"It's the thought that counts," Ray said.

  
   


* * *

  
   


It wasn't that Ray didn't want to have sex with Fraser. Of course he wanted to have sex with Fraser. The little old nuns at Our Lady of Eternal Chastity down the street from the station wanted to have sex with Fraser. You could see it in their eyes and the way they pinched his cheeks. Wanting to have sex with Fraser was evidence of a functioning sex drive, and it wasn't even limited to humans. Plants swayed a little bit closer when Fraser walked by.

The thing was, he'd always pictured soft lights and music, and a feather bed, and silk sheets. He had some romance in his soul, damn it, and he was not about to blow his one and only shot at Fraser on a quick fuck against a tree in the company of a tribe of nutbars. A guy had to have some standards.

He'd tried to explain all of that to Fraser right off the bat, but when he opened his mouth he'd found himself saying "Are you insane? Are you _fucking insane?_" about thirty times, and Fraser hadn't taken it at all well. He'd actually gotten kind of huffy about it, and stopped talking to Ray for all of five minutes. While grateful for the respite from calm Canadian rationality designed and built to drive sane Americans otherwise, in the end Ray found he didn't like it very much. It wasn't as fun to yell at people when they didn't say anything back.

Now, with a crossbow poking into his belly and an angry, sexually frustrated Inupikookiak on the other end of it, Ray wondered if maybe he couldn't relax his standards just a little. Just enough that he ended up having unpleasant, cold, unromantic sex with Fraser rather than with, say, Mr. This Is My Crossbow AND I'm Happy To See You.

"Okay," he shouted. He didn't mean to shout but he was naked and there was a crossbow. "Okay, fine, FINE! Fraser, tell them fine!"

After a moment of shocked silence, Fraser erupted into a string of k's and q's the likes of which Ray hoped never to hear again. The crossbow was removed, its wielder stepped back - a bit reluctantly, Ray noticed with alarm - and the ropes, which had grown uncomfortable and then torturous and eventually unnoticeable as he lost all feeling in his extremities, were untied.

Ray fell over. A leafy-sounding thud from behind him told him he wasn't alone. "Ow," he said breathlessly to Fraser, "ow ow ow."

"I concur," Fraser said, his voice higher than usual. "I didn't land well."

"Ow," Ray said again, this time in sympathy.

More crackling leaves, and Fraser was warm and solid against his back. Bits of Fraser that he'd had never been in contact with before were pressed tight into the small of Ray's back. Fraser's hands slid soft and sure down his arms, soothing away the ache. "Lie still," Fraser said quietly. "The pain should fade quickly."

"Liar," Ray grated out.

"Yes."

"Are they watching?"

"No."

"Liar."

Fraser's arms closed around Ray's waist. "I'm afraid so, yes."

Ray glanced up. They were watching, all right. Gathered in a tight little circle, staring down at them and grinning wide, amused grins.

"This is really, definitely our very last vacation together," Ray said.

  
   


* * *

  
   


He tried. He really did try. Fraser was back there all squished against him and licking his neck and they were naked and Ray had his eyes closed, after all, so it wasn't like he could _see_ them. They could see him, though, and there was no way Ray could convince his completely unresponsive equipment otherwise. It didn't help that Fraser wasn't having any more luck than he was; the bits of Fraser getting squished into his back were a hell of a lot more squishy than they'd need to be, to be genuinely helpful in this situation.

"Are you thinking of Canada?" Ray demanded.

"Yes, Ray," Fraser gritted out. "For the fifteenth time, yes."

"Geez, no need to get snippy. I'm just trying to help."

Stony silence from behind.

"Is it me?" Ray bit his lip, hard. "Never mind, I didn't say that."

"It's not you."

"I said I didn't say it!"

"I'm sorry, Ray, but you _did_ say it, and I can't pretend that you didn't. Clearly you have some kind of insecurity around the subject, and as your friend it's my duty to alleviate that in whatever--"

"I didn't say it!"

Fraser sighed wearily. "Understood."

"What I actually said," Ray said, turning over in one quick, painful flop, "what I said, is how can I help?"

Up close, in the light from a dozen torches, Fraser's eyes were deep, deep blue. He opened his mouth, but didn't actually say anything, and when he closed it, a strangled sound escaped, like he'd trapped a few dictionaries right behind his teeth.

"Fraser?"

"I'm -- I'm not sure that anything you could do right now would be classified as 'help'."

Ray glared. "Hey, look. I know I'm not God's gift or anything, but given a choice between me and a horrible pointy death --"

"Given a choice between doing something you don't want, and not doing something the not-doing of which will result in your horrible pointy death, I find I'm -- quite incapable."

Ray waited. When Fraser didn't look like he was going to say anything else, Ray said, "Of _what_?"

"Of anything," Fraser replied miserably. "I'm sorry, Ray." He closed his eyes. "I've let us both down."

Ray frowned. "Hey."

Fraser shook his head fiercely, but didn't look up.

"Hey, Benny, come on." Ray reached up, and pushed at Fraser's chin gently until he was forced to meet Ray's eyes. "You haven't."

"We're quite likely to die at any moment."

"Well, yeah, but not because of anything you did. Or, uh, aren't doing. You don't see me over here ready and willing to pop _your_ cherry. Uh, assuming you're a, you know. I mean. In _that_ way."

"I am."

Ray's eyes widened. "You--"

"You find that surprising?"

"I find it sort of surprising that you even knew what I was talking about."

"Please." Fraser rolled his eyes, so expertly and unexpectedly that Ray couldn't help grinning, and scooting a little closer. "I am of age, Ray, and I grew up in the Territories. The things I could tell you about lonely men and caribou--"

Ray yelped. "No! Thank you! I'm fine, really!"

Fraser's mouth curled up on one side. "I thought you might be."

Ray reached out and laid his hand on Fraser's arm. The skin was soft and smooth, the muscle underneath it hard as rock. "I'm just saying, I'm not helping any either."

"You would be helping," Fraser said quietly. His eyes were clear and intense. "Under other circumstances."

"Yeah, I -- what?"

"Under other circumstances, Ray, your mere presence is enough to -- help." Fraser's gaze wandered again, upward this time, and a flush swept into his cheeks. It wasn't all the torchlight.

Ray blinked. "Um."

"It's all right, Ray. We're unlikely to ever be in other circumstances again. I just wanted you to know, before we're killed."

"Thank you, Benny." Ray swallowed once, hard. There was a pressure behind his eyes that clearly didn't mean anything, and a tightness in his chest that was obviously left over from the ropes, and his heart was pounding so hard he was sure Fraser could hear it. Just fear for his life, right, nothing more than that, because he was not having a first tender romantic moment with Fraser in a pile of dirty leaves in the woods surrounded by kinky Eskimos. But his hands were on Fraser's shoulders, and he was closer than he had been, and he was licking his lips in spite of his best intentions as he said, "Benny--" in a low, gentle voice.

And then there was confusion and yelling, and a lot of the torches went out, angry barking erupted from one side and some gunshots rang out and then something nearby caught fire. Ray was pretty sure it was their tree.

_Their tree,_ he was calling it now, so he had to roll his eyes at himself really hard, even as he jumped to his feet and joined his own rescue.

  
   


* * *

  
   


An hour later, they had their clothes back and Ray had his gun back and Benny had his shoulder back where it was supposed to be. Diefenbaker had been thanked effusively with pemmican and the promise of a candy bar later, and Benny was once again speaking at interminable length in a language almost but not quite entirely unlike the first one. How these people ever got anything done when they had forty languages per square foot of real estate, Ray would never understand. It was going a lot better this time, though, because this time the Eskimo Benny was yammering at looked really, really embarrassed.

_Good_, Ray thought viciously. He hated to blush alone. He glared at the guy until Benny wound it all down.

"Sorry," the Eskimo said to Benny, glancing quickly at Ray. "Sorry, sorry." It seemed to be the only word he knew in English. If he spent as much time rescuing people from his depraved neighbors as it seemed like he might, it probably came in really handy.

"He's sorry," Benny said to Ray, by way of translation.

"Thanks, Fraser."

"You're very welcome."

"Can we go now, or does this tribe have demands, too?"

"We're free to leave at any time. Roger has offered to give us a ride back to my cabin, however."

Ray stared. "His name is _Roger_?"

"He brought blankets, food and horses."

"Well," Ray said. "In that case, he can call himself whatever he likes."

  
   


* * *

  
   


Roger had blessedly little to say on the ride back through the frozen waste to Benny's cabin, which probably saved his life. Just because Ray had never killed a guy with a plaid chenille throw and a Power bar before didn't mean he wasn't willing to try. If a year as Benny's wacky American sidekick had taught Ray anything, it had taught him how to make the best of a bad situation.

When Roger had been thanked way more extensively than Ray would have done if he'd been the one doing the talking, and when Benny had given back his blanket and thermos and Ray had categorically refused to give up his, and when Roger -- looking a little less embarrassed and sorry, and muttering angrily to his horse -- had trotted off to wherever it was he'd come from, they were left alone in awkward, rumpled silence. Ray couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't make it all worse and for once, that actually kept him quiet. Benny stayed quiet, too, but he kept looking over at Ray like he might say something if Ray didn't say something first.

So Ray said, "Let's go inside before these mosquitoes drain my body of blood completely, okay?"

"Okay," Benny said. He looked at Ray and didn't move.

Ray sighed. And waited. The door wasn't so much locked as it was tied closed; Ray knew it would be the kind of knot that only responded to Canadian hands, so he didn't even try.

"Oh," Benny said, finally. "I should--"

"Yes, Fraser, you should."

Fraser let them in.

"I don't get why you bother to lock up anyway," Ray said, starting to peel himself out of his leaf-riddled gear. "Don't tell me there's actual _crime_ in _Canada_."

Benny shot him a dark, reproachful look. "Not to the extent most American cities can boast, no; and under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have bothered. In this instance, I secured the cabin door to protect the interior, in light of a recent rash of home invasions authorities have attributed to a local band of unruly beavers."

Ray stopped moving, half in and half out of his second-to-last layer. "Beavers," he said cautiously, staring at Benny for confirmation.

Benny nodded apologetically. "In spring, they tend to frolic."

"Am I to understand that you tied your door closed to guard against a troupe of frolicking, thieving _beavers_?"

"Well, nothing has actually been reported stolen so far; the motive appears to be simple vandalism. Still; better safe than sorry, I always say."

"Oh, me too," Ray said, nodding gravely. "Absolutely." He didn't crack a smile, and he didn't let on he saw Benny cracking one, either.

While Benny had his back turned to build a nice warm fire in the wood stove, Ray skinned out of his long johns and into a T-shirt and a fresh pair of jeans. It was nice to have something next to his skin that didn't crackle or jab. He would have put on a fresh sweatshirt, too, but he didn't want anything getting between him and the stove. He huddled in close behind Benny, rubbing his arms.

"I think it's actually colder in here than it is out there," he said. "I got goosebumps on top of my goosebumps, Benny."

"Just a few more minutes. When the fire is hot enough, I'll put on a kettle for tea."

Ray rolled his eyes. "Oh, well, _tea_. Between that and your dislocated shoulder trick, we'll have world peace in no time."

"One would certainly think so," Benny said, and actually managed to sound so puzzled and affronted that Ray was impressed in spite of himself. He grinned, and edged a little closer.

"You got sugar for that tea?"

"Of course."

"Well then, we're all set. How long till it gets warmer?"

"I would say about five minutes."

"Five minutes! I'll be an icicle by then! Five minutes before we have _tea?_ I'll catch my death!"

"Five minutes until it's warmer," Benny corrected, frowning slightly. He turned toward Ray, arms folded over his chest. "What with boiling the water and steeping the leaves, tea will take considerably longer. Is something wrong, Ray?"

Ray folded his own arms. "I don't know, Benny. I guess I just I don't think much of your hosting skills right now. I mean, I'm out here in the woods with you, at the mercy of kinky Eskimos and delinquent beavers, and you can't even provide me with tea and crumpets. Or scones, or whatever it is you people have with tea."

Benny's shoulders became subtly squarer; his face darkened, and if Ray didn't know better, he'd think Benny was trying to loom a little. "Manners," he said firmly. "Manners are what we usually have with our tea."

Ray laughed delightedly. "Ooooh, did I hit a nerve there, Red? Kind of sensitive about our official national comfort beverages, are we?"

Benny sighed. His shoulders slumped, losing all traces of intimidation, of which there hadn't actually been any to start with. "Really, Ray, this isn't helping. Making fun of me won't heat the room any faster, but by all means, if it makes you feel better --"

Ray put his hand on Benny's arm and squeezed. It had the dual benefit of shutting Benny up immediately and keeping Ray's hand from shaking. "I'm not helping -- even a little bit?" he said, carefully watching Benny's face. "Because I was really sort of hoping that I was."

Benny stood very, very still. Ray would have thought he'd been turned to a cheesy porcelain sculpture of a seriously hot off-duty Mountie, except that Benny's breath was suddenly coming a lot faster and the arm under Ray's hand was suddenly tense.

Ray loosened his grip, turned the clutch into more of a stroke. It went from Benny's elbow to his shoulder, probably slower than it should have, getting distracted by warm, solid muscle on the way. There was a deep, fine tremor just under Benny's skin that turned Ray's knees to water. He was ready for anything Benny wanted, candles or no candles; the fire was candlelight enough for Ray, and the bed -- well, honestly the bed was kind of horrible, with scratchy 10-count cotton sheets and scratchy wool on top of them and a worn-out wolf currently drooling and snoring across both, but the floor would be just fine with Ray, now that he thought about it. He'd settle for a wall, if that was what he could get.

What he wasn't ready for was Benny covering his hand and stopping it, tugging it off his arm, and letting it go. He wasn't ready for Benny taking a step back, because -- when the hell had Benny _ever_ taken a step back from anything?

"Ray," he said gently. "I appreciate the gesture, but --"

Ray blinked. "Gesture?"

"It's not necessary. What nearly happened in the forest was -- it was clearly not what either of us would have wanted, and it places neither of us under any obligation." Benny folded his arms up over his chest again, hugging his elbows tightly. "I can't tell you how sorry I am for exposing you to both physical danger and emotional discomfort on your vacation. As your friend and as your host, I should have --"

"You should have what?" Ray frowned. "You should have anticipated a lost ancient tribe of sex-starved Eskimos on your land and kept me safely indoors where -- where, what? Where the beavers could get me?"

"I should have taken better care," Benny said firmly. "The point is, Ray, we were obviously under extreme duress, in the interest of saving one another's lives. No further sacrifices are necessary on either part."

Ray felt a little dizzy. "Sacrifices?" he repeated, dropping his eyes from Fraser's. He put a hand out to the wall to keep himself steady. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Ray!"

Fraser reached for Ray's shoulder, but Ray fended him off, pressing his back to the wall and locking his knees. "Metaphorically," he clarified. "Mostly metaphorically sick."

"Can I--"

"No, you can't. Obviously. I thought you couldn't because, you know, you _couldn't_, but hey, if you still can't, you can't, right? Just my luck: I got a best friend who'd do anything for me, as long as he doesn't have to _want_ to."

"Ray," Fraser said. His voice was different, so different that Ray looked up in spite of himself. His face was different, too -- warm and soft and embarrassed.

Ray didn't want to look at that, _pity_ on the face of a guy whose little black book contained nothing but wolves and murderesses, so he closed his eyes and waited it out. Pretty soon Fraser would get distracted by building the fire up or putting tea on and Ray could beat a strategic retreat to his sleeping bag for the night.

"I should see to the tea," Fraser said, and Ray nearly fell over from relief.

"Yeah, you should do that." Ray pushed himself off the wall, keeping his eyes on the floor. One foot in front of the other. He could almost hear his pride crackling underfoot. "I'll just go to--"

Fraser caught at Ray's shoulder and turned him, so fast and so expertly that Ray's eyes shot up to Fraser's face. "Hey!"

"I'm sorry for the ruse," Fraser said. "It seemed necessary."

"What are you talking about?" Ray tried to jerk loose, but Fraser had been taking his vitamins or something because he had a grip like solid rock. "What kind of person uses _tea_ as a ruse? Who even _says_ ruse, anymore?"

"Ray, please listen."

"Oh, no. No way. We are not analyzing this, Benny, we are not going to talk about our feelings, we are not going to do or say anything that will mortify what little there is left of my dignity."

Fraser nodded once, sharply. "All right," he said. "If that's what you want." Two pink dots had formed high up on his cheekbones, and his eyes had gone all dark and serious, so Ray could see he meant it.

"Thank you." Ray yanked his eyes off Fraser's so maybe he could breathe again.

"You're quite welcome, Ray," Fraser said, and then he pushed Ray's back into the wall and kissed him.

  
   


* * *

  
   


So, Ray didn't get to do the big romantic thing with the silk sheets and the candles and the jazz playing on the stereo. On the bright side, he didn't have to do the big scary thing with the spears and spectators and tree roots sticking into his back, either. He wasn't going to get his big chance with Benny, not the way he wanted, but what he was getting...

Well. What he got was this:

Benny had like three sets of hands, and each one knew exactly what to do. He had sleeping bags spread out on the floor and Ray spread out on the sleeping bags while Ray was still processing the kiss. By the time he noticed he was no longer vertical, Benny was sprawled over him in a thick layer of Canadian enthusiasm, the kiss had resumed in its new venue, and he'd lost his T-shirt, somewhere between the wall and the floor.

He tried once to pull away, get a little sense back in the proceedings, but Benny wouldn't give him enough air. Barely any for breathing, sure as hell not enough for talking. He tried to say stuff other ways, though, and he thought Benny understood. When Ray pulled him down, Benny moved over him like a warm, comfy blanket; when Ray's legs spawled apart, Benny settled eagerly between them. Benny was hard, and when Ray made a sharp, surprised noise and shuddered and held on too tight, Benny just slowed down and held on with him.

When Ray could let go a little, Benny pulled back a little, and looked down at him. His eyes settled on Ray's chest, and his mouth followed, tongue rough, just the barest edge of teeth. Ray arched up, hands sliding into Benny's hair. His cock rubbed against Benny's, a slow drag of heat and pleasure winding down deep into him, making it hard to breathe.

Benny raised his head, half a grin on his wet, red lips. It was almost as bad as the licking, for turning Ray inside out. He just lay there and tried not to come apart _noticeably_ and waited to see what would happen next. With Benny leering at him like that, all happy and sincere and clearly out of his mind, Ray's interest in what would happen next was at an all-time high.

"You were right, Ray," Benny said quietly. His hips moved, hard and deliberate. "This is much better than talking."

"This is -- ah, Benny, this is crazy." Ray slid his hands down to Benny's hips, pulling him up again. "This feels too good. Even I didn't know it was gonna feel this good."

"_I_ knew."

Ray couldn't stare full on into that kind of smug insanity without getting himself infected, so he looked at Benny's mouth instead. He thought about the kinds of things he wanted it to do to him, because it seemed like at least this once those things were on offer. "You know everything," he said, and licked at his own lips, thought about what _they_ could do.

It was the kind of thing that couldn't last; it was going by too fast, too much to do and see, too intense. He kept his eyes wide open, banking Benny's smile, the light in Benny's face that shone out of him through all of it. Ray knew he was pushing too hard, gripping too tight, but he needed it all, needed to be able to feel Benny under his hands when his hands were empty again.

He shoved, twisted, and got Benny on his back, a startled thump and a flinch when his head banged against the floor. "Sorry," he said to Benny's chest, but there was interesting stuff there, nipples hard-tipped and red, and Ray had forgotten what he was sorry for by the time he said it. He ran his tongue over one of the points and laughed, breathless and delighted, when Benny's head hit the floor hard again.

"Ray," Benny said tightly, "please do that again."

He did. He did it a couple of times, on both sides, while his fingers searched out Benny's belt and the button on his jeans. Benny was gasping by the time Ray found the zipper and slid it down, and then he made a sound Ray had only heard in the very best of his dreams about this. He shoved up, thick and hard in Ray's hand, and Ray felt weird, kind of dizzy and strong, and definitely in charge for just that moment; it was hot and strange and good, to do this to Benny, to make him moan and twist and sweat.

"I love this," he said to Benny's chest, biting and stroking at the same time, and oh, yeah, he loved it. He loved it because he could make Benny love it, maybe not forever but at least, absolutely, for right now. He had Benny's hands on his head, a not at all subtle pressure pushing him down the long, flat stretch of Benny's body, and he was happy to make the trip; more than happy.

When he got where he was going, he looked up and said, "You okay up there?"

Benny answered with a groan and a disbelieving glare that made Ray laugh and say, "Yeah, okay, I got it. We're good."

He tasted like sweat and fresh air, and he was like a fever under Ray's tongue, like nothing he ever could have imagined. Benny's body stretched like a high tension wire beneath him, so perfectly and purposefully still he was vibrating with it. Ray didn't like that; he didn't like that at all, because this was the memory he was gonna get and he didn't need another reminder that his partner was a tough guy.

"Come on, Benny," he said, pressing a hard kiss into the curve of Benny's thigh. "If we're gonna do this, let's do it right, huh?"

Benny choked on a laugh, his voice high and vaguely disconcerted. "You're...definitely doing it right."

"See, I don't think so. You're awfully quiet up there, for a guy who's having it done right."

"Ray... I can't just..."

"Benny, trust me on this, okay? You really, really can."

He could; he could do a lot. He could bruise Ray's mouth jerking up when Ray went down, he could gasp helplessly when Ray sucked him. He could leave dark fingerprints on Ray's shoulders when Ray dragged his tongue up around the crown of his cock and went down again hard and fast. That was what Ray wanted, what he liked; Benny putting marks on him that would last.

Benny broke into Ray's rhythm, hauled him up, hands too fast and clumsy at the button of his jeans. When Ray got his balance back, he helped as much as he could, shaking so hard with want he thought he'd bring the rafters down around them. Benny's hand on him was so good it almost hurt, but that wasn't what Benny wanted and when they were lined up, sliding against each other, Ray was totally on Benny's side. He would have come apart if Benny hadn't held him so tight, from the sweet, deep, crazy thrill of it and the surprise of it, too, that all this new stuff could be so good, the very best thing he'd ever done.

He came hard and long, caught between Benny and the wall, holding on to Benny's waist way too tight. It hit him like a shock when Benny followed right after him, shaking, teeth on his shoulder for a sharp, bright instant and then Benny's mouth on his, tongue sweet and needy at his lips, pressing in. He held on when Ray thought he might let go; he actually came closer, a leg slung over Ray's, tucking Ray in tight against his body.

"Ray," he said after a long, lazy while, huffing a breath directly into Ray's ear.

"Hmmm?"

"Let's not go home tomorrow."

"Mmmmmm." Ray smiled, just thinking about it. No hiking, no fishing, no boating, no natives with pointy sticks and pointier demands. Just Benny for a little longer, naked on scratchy cotton sheets. "Okay," he said, nuzzling into Benny's throat. He was sweaty and warm there, soft and fragile. Benny tilted back obligingly, and his hands came up and cradled Ray's head.

"Let's not go home the day after that, either," Benny said.

Ray frowned, and pulled his head back to stare. "Wouldn't that be like... truancy, or something, for you?"

"By my math, I've banked thirty-seven days of sick leave in the past five years alone. It would have been forty, but I was stabbed once, and shot in the leg, and set on fire by an Inuit shaman who believed I'd insulted his father. An unfortunate misplacement of a vowel, as I recall."

Ray blinked. "What happened on the other two days?"

"Will you stay?"

"Ah, Benny. You should...you should think about this some, before you ask me stuff like that."

"I've thought about little else for the past year." Benny's fingers traced over Ray's cheek, past his jaw. They curled around his shoulder, and tightened there. "Believe me, Ray. This is what I want."

"Benny," Ray said. He looked at Benny, right into his eyes, and swallowed around the hard, tight knot in his throat. "Seriously, it doesn't have to be like that, if --"

_"That_ is how things are." Benny tightened his arms around Ray and squeezed manfully, with intent.

Breathing was all Ray lacked to be perfectly okay at that moment. Breathing and a few more sick days of his own. He didn't have anything close to thirty-seven of them, but he could maybe claim traumatic injury and get a little comp time off the books. They could do some heavy-duty lounging around the cabin, and Ray could make sure Benny stayed in the buff for every second of it. They could do everything they'd just done, but this time, a second time out of a whole bunch of uncountable times, they could take it slow.

"Ray?"

"Those Eskimos," Ray said thoughtfully. "Any idea where they live? I'd kind of like to send them a thank you note."

"That's very kind of you," Benny said, frowning. "And slightly disturbing."

"Well, they did get us here, after all." Ray grinned. "I feel kind of bad that they didn't get to watch."

"I...don't."

"Selfishness, Benny," Ray said. "See, this is good, I feel like I know you better already. Just think about those poor, sad Eskimo guys and gals with no porn to warm them up through the long, dark winter. Maybe we should get a video camera, what do you think?"

"We could install it over the headboard," Benny said. He sighed with the patience of a saint, and his smile had a resigned, kind of helpless air to it, and there wasn't a whole lot in life that had ever made Ray happier than that. "We could broadcast," Benny said, getting into it. "For a fee."

"Regular shows, I hope." Ray shoved Benny a little, squirmed until he was draped half over him. "Matinees, and maybe in the evenings, a double feature."

"Really, it's a wonder your lieutenant thinks you lack ambition."

"He doesn't know me like you know me," Ray said smugly.

"Or like the Eskimos will, if you have your way."

Ray lifted his head, grinning. "I'm sorry...did you just call them _Eskimos_?"

Benny trailed his fingers slowly over the curve of Ray's spine. "Perhaps we could widen the windows."

Ray melted half-way through the floor, and pressed a smile into Benny's chest. "It's your cabin," he said generously. "Knock yourself out."


End file.
